One of the government’s follow-up witnesses. His name was withheld but both attorneys called him by a pseudonym: Smith. He said he worked for Beecham Trading. Beecham was the name of the street they used to live on.
That was her father’s firm.
Kate’s pulse started to quicken as she leaned over the black-bound folder with heightened interest. Next to speak was Nardozzi, the government prosecutor.
NARDOZZI: What was your job at Beecham, Mr. Smith?
WITNESS: I handled the daily accounting. Cash disbursements, the resolution of trades.
Kate’s eyes widened. Oh, my God.
She realized who it was!
NARDOZZI: In the course of your job, did you handle payments from Paz Enterprises?
WITNESS: Yes I did, Mr. Nardozzi. They were one of our largest customers.
NARDOZZI: What about receipts from Argot Manufacturing?
WITNESS: [Nods] Yes, again, sir. Payments, too.
NARDOZZI: And at any time did you happen to grow suspicious of those receipts from Argot?
WITNESS: Yes I did, sir. Argot was a manufacturing company. Paz transshipped their product to them directly, so there was a lot of back-and-forth. I spoke to Mr. Raab about it at length. Several times. The invoices … they just didn’t seem kosher.
NARDOZZI: By not kosher, you mean they were well beyond the normal commission rate.
WITNESS: [Softly] Yes, Mr. Nardozzi. That—and that they were all for ordinary items, that were shipped offshore.
NARDOZZI: Offshore?
WITNESS: The Caymans, Trinidad, Mexico. But I knew they weren’t ending up there. I spoke with Ben about it. Several times over the years. He kept putting me off by saying that this was just an unusual account that billed in their own way. But I knew where they were going. I knew the people we were dealing with and the kind of money that was coming in. I may be an accountant, Mr. Nardozzi [laugh], but I’m not a fool.
NARDOZZI: So what did you do, Mr. Smith, about the questions you had? After you say you spoke with your boss several times and he kept putting you off?
Kate read the response. She pulled back from the transcript. A chill ran down her spine.
WITNESS: [Long pause] I contacted the FBI.
Kate stepped forward, surprising the heavyset man as he stepped out of the office building on Thirty-third Street.
“Howard?”
Howard Kurtzman had worked for her father for twenty years. It wasn’t hard to find him. Her dad’s old secretary, Betsy, knew the toy company where he worked now. The accountant had always been a creature of habit. He always went out at twelve o’clock sharp for lunch.
“Kate?” His eyes regarded her nervously. People rushed by on the busy street. “Jeez, Kate, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
Kate had always had a fondness for him. When she was growing up, he was the guy who always handled the office’s day-to-day. The type who always felt he was the glue that held the place together. It was Howard who always sent Kate her monthly allowance checks back in college. Once he even vouched for her when she went over her credit-card limit in Italy and didn’t want her father to know. Howard was still overweight, had lost a little hair on top, and spoke with a bit of a wheeze. He was still wearing the same thick support shoes and fat, out-of-style tie. He always referred to Kate as “Boss’s Daughter Number One.”
“Congratulations,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “I heard you got married, Kate.”
“Thanks.” She looked at him. There was something about this that Kate felt was a little sad.
“So is this a coincidence, or what?” The accountant tried to laugh. “I’m afraid the old checkbook is closed.”
“Howard, I read the transcripts.” Kate stepped forward.
“The transcripts …” He scratched his head uncomfortably. “Jeez, Kate, a whole year’s gone by. Now?”
“Howard, I know it was you,” Kate said. “I know you were the person who turned him in.”
“You’re wrong.” He shook his head. “I was subpoenaed by the FBI.”
“Howard, please …” Kate placed her hand on the accountant’s arm. “I don’t care. I know that my father did some bad things. I just want to know, why did you do it? After all those years? Did someone put you up to it? Pressure you? Howard, you were like part of the family.”
“I told you.” His eyes flitted around anxiously. “They subpoenaed me, Kate. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Maybe someone else did, then? In the business. Did someone pay you, Howard? Please, this is important.” Kate realized she was sounding a little frantic. “I have to know.”
Howard led her over to the curb, away from the flow of people. Kate could see he was really afraid.
“Why are you doing this, Kate? Why are you going back there now?”
“It isn’t ‘back there’ for me, Howard. My father’s missing. No one’s seen him for the past week. My mother’s crazy over this. We can’t even find out if he’s dead or alive.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But you can’t be here, Kate. I have a life—”
“We have lives, too, Howard. Please, I know you know something. You can’t hate him that much.”
“You think I hate him?” There was a little denial in his voice, something Kate took as sadness, too. “Don’t you understand, I worked for your father for twenty years.”
Kate’s eyes glistened. “I know.”
He didn’t budge. “I’m sorry. You were wrong to come here, Kate.” He tried to pull himself away. “Face it, your father was a criminal, Kate. I did the right thing. I’ve got to go.”
Kate reached out and took hold of the accountant’s arm. She could barely hide her feelings. She had known Howard Kurtzman since she was a kid.
“I did the right thing, Kate. Don’t you understand?” He looked like he was having a meltdown. “Go away now, please. This is my life now. Leave me alone, Kate, and don’t come back.”
It was a chilly October morning. Kate was on the river again. The WITSEC agent guarding her was watching from the parking lot high above the boathouse on the shore.
Kate pushed off the pier and headed upstream, in the direction of the Hudson. Up ahead, on the cliff at the bend at Baker Field, the sun shone luminously off the huge painted Columbia C.
The currents were a little choppy that morning, and the traffic was light. Kate found herself pretty much alone out there. She started by doing five-beat strokes, just to get her rhythm. The sleek shell glided easily through the waves. Up ahead there was a launch boat in the middle of the river, in the stretch they called the Narrows, between Swindler’s Cove and Baker Field.
She charted a course to stay clear of it. Okay, Kate, push it.… Let it go.…
She leaned forward and powered into her routine, increasing her pace to every four beats. Her neoprene wetsuit blocked